


Tales of the Past

by geekmama



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekmama/pseuds/geekmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Backstory drabbles, responses to the twenty different prompts in Live Journal's hseas_challenge #4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The English rose – Elizabeth’s childhood in England

****

"It's my mother," Elizabeth said, showing Jack the miniature.

"Of course it is," he said. A genteel lady with smiling eyes and Elizabeth's mouth. "She looks like you."

Elizabeth gave a sad little laugh. "It's seemed like a dream, but this brings it all back. She was wearing that dress on my sixth birthday. We had dinner in the garden. She was so beautiful." She studied the portrait closely. "So much loss. So much."

Jack slipped an arm about her. "And gained. She'll be proud of you, too, no doubt. Your da will have told her the story by now."


	2. The man from a faraway land – where does Jack come from?

Elizabeth's mind was not on her prayer book.

_Clearly, you’ve never been to Singapore._

Singapore!

And where else had he been? As odd as he'd looked, and in spite of the threat that had piqued her fury, it was evident that the assurance and the lithe grace of his escape were no accident. He was a man of experience, capable, sharply intelligent. A man who'd sailed the world.

And he had saved her life at his peril.

James had caught him, but he was not like the others. Jack Sparrow would surely escape, somehow.

Singapore and the world were waiting.


	3. 'Clearly, you’ve never been to Singapore'

"Jack, what do corsets have to do with Singapore?"

Jack had been on the edge of exhausted and sated sleep, but at this his eyes popped open and slid to meet those of his maddening nemesis. "You're asking _now?_"

Clearly _un_sated, she dimpled. "Tai Huang said only Western ladies use them."

"Oh." His eyelids drifted south and he muttered, "Innocent lad's apparently not cognizant of the more adventurous forms of sexual congress practiced in his home port. Corsets're the least of it."

"You're joking!"

"Wouldn't."

"You can't leave it at that! Tell me."

"Later, darlin'. My word as a pirate."


	4. A wolf in sheep’s clothing – Jack meets Hector Barbossa

Bootstrap trotted off, leaving Jack stinking of bilge and blinking in the sun, the pirates gathering. He tried to look confident and friendly, but with limited success.

"What's this?" A big, narrow-eyed fellow with rusty hair came swaying up. "Oh, for the love— Not another one!" Rusty-hair spat, to general laughter. "Yer a fine young catamite, but it's no use givin' Twigg here the eye. He reckons the ladies."

"I didn't—"

Twigg's blow sent Jack sprawling. Suddenly he was fighting them all, for his dignity at least, until Bootstrap's blessed shout:

“Oi! Leave ‘im be, you dogs! He’s _Captain’s!_”


	5. The mutiny

The sound of boots and a key grating in the lock roused Jack instantly. He struggled up, hoping he looked fierce and stoic in spite of his battered state.

But it was Turner.

Bill was silent at first, just passed in water and clean rags, then a packet of hardtack and a flask.

"Rum?" Jack’s smile cracked open the cut on his lip.

"Aye." Bill looked hangdog. "I'm sorry Jack. Won't say I told you so."

"Good," Jack said, wryly. He downed half the contents of the flask in one go.

He'd bloody be hearing enough of that from Teague.


	6. The pirate’s gospel – a good man turning pirate

It's a fortnight before he's able to rest upon his back, but the first time he's left to sleep in silent shadow, the darling novice who's occasionally been allowed to read to him slips into the cell, tractless.

She sits on the bed beside him. "Señor."

"Pequeña, you shouldn't."

She shakes her head. His wrist lies atop the blanket in the moonlight, and she touches the scabbed letter, gently. "You will leave soon."

“I must.”

She meets his eyes. “I _must_, too.”

Later he considers it a good omen that so enjoyable a sin is his first as a pirate.


	7. "Use your voice, my little bird..." – Elizabeth learns from her Mother   ~and~   The first lie – the Governor’s daughter is honestly dishonest

"He didn't do it!"

Her voice seemed unnaturally loud and they all turned to stare, even the accused. Mother gaped, and Father's brow lowered.

"What do you mean, child?"

Elizabeth straightened. "Jemmy didn't kill the deer, I saw the man, he ran off toward the village. Jemmy only found it and was bringing it to you."

Father once more turned to the grubby stipling. "Is that so, Jemmy?"

Jemmy, twisting his hat with blood-stained, nervous fingers, didn't look meet Father’s gaze, but said, "Aye, sir."

Father was silent for an uncomfortable moment. Then he said to his steward, "It seems we may have erred, Simmons. You'll make inquiries in the village this afternoon." His eye turned upon Jemmy again. "As you were attempting to do your duty, you shall have a haunch of the beast as a reward, for you and your family."

"Thank you," Jemmy choked.

*

"Elizabeth," said Mother, when they were alone. "You lied to save that boy."

Elizabeth swallowed hard. "The punishment for poaching—“

“—is death.” Mother nodded. She drew Elizabeth close, and her voice trembled. "Lies may have unintended consequences, my dear. But I think, in such a case, one cannot but speak.”


	8. Selling his soul – Jack strikes a deal with Davy Jones

Jack Sparrow considered himself fairly hardened, even at six and twenty, but it made his flesh crawl, Jones'..._state_. And the way the devil gloated so lavishly at the bargain they'd struck, too, as though in the blink of an eye Jack would be one of those poor, fishy sods that crewed the _Dutchman_.

_Thirteen years_.

But when Jack saw his ship, burnt black from stem to stern but beautifully intact and _alive_, he knew it was worth it.

Thirteen years. A lot could happen in thirteen years.

And what good was a soul, anyway, with a heart buried fathoms deep?


	9. "It’s just good business" – Jack, Beckett, and the EITC

Slaves.

How had he thought he could reconcile himself -- his conscience, that scorned, inconvenient and undeniable entity -- to this reality?

Tight-packed, the black faces looked up at him. Men. Women. Children. A few yet capable of anger or fear, but most dull-eyed and hopeless, and sick with it.

And it wasn’t pity, or even the stench that made Jack’s stomach turn. He could still envision Beckett in his mind’s eye, the neat figure, the curve of the full lips, and the echo of words -- reasonable, soothing -- that were the whisperings of a serpent.

_It's just good business, Jack._


	10. A trail of broken hearts – there have been others before Elizabeth

"Captain Jack Sparrow!"

The woman bore down on them from the far side of the tavern. Jack grabbed Elizabeth's arm. "Time to go!"

Out the door and around the corner, but three more women were approaching. "_Captain Jack Sparrow!_”

Jack reversed direction, dragging Elizabeth along.

There were two more outraged encounters before they made it back to Elizabeth's quarters. Jack bolted the door and collapsed on the bed.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I suppose it's inevitable. You _are_ Captain Jack Sparrow."

Jack drew her down and hugged her close. "There's times when I vastly prefer to be just Jack, savvy?"


	11. Debts –Why is Jack indebted to the Pirate Lords?

"And I owe them all money."

“You owe them? For what?” Hector scoffed. “Don't tell me those scallywags funded one o' them mad schemes of yourn."

Jack shrugged. “’Twas after the mutiny. I needed a new ship, didn't I? Promised 'em untold riches from the Isla de Muerta."

Hector gave a bark of laughter. “So what happened? You had the compass."

"It bloody wouldn't work. There were two things I wanted more, and they weren’t on the Isla, not by that time.”

“The _Black Pearl_.” Hector nodded. “And the second?”

“Your death, of course.”

Hector's blood ran cold. “Of course.”


	12. The New World – Jack’s adventures in the Colonies pre-CotBP

Thin morning light caught the wink of gold half-hidden in the elflocks strewn over the pillow.

"Jack… is this a wedding ring?"

One kohl-smudged eyelid rose. "Maybe."

Elizabeth frowned. "What does that mean?"

Jack frowned, too. His eye closed. But after a moment's hesitation he spoke. "Maybe I gave up pirating for a bit. After the mutiny. Maybe lighted in Boston, took up drawing maps again. Maybe got leg-shackled, too. Only maybe she was too good for this earth. She and her son.”

Elizabeth felt a creeping chill, and whispered, "Is it true?"

The edge of his lip quivered. "Maybe."


	13. Freedom above all else – Elizabeth’s/Jack’s first taste of freedom.

"Jack, do you remember on the island, when you told me a ship was freedom?"

"I did?"

"Yes. Of course you did. Don't you remember?"

"Well..."

"Jack! You don't remember?"

"Not precisely. Seems a bit... romantic for me. High-flown, as it were."

"It _was_ romantic! Very much so!"

"Was I making up to you?"

"You were… attempting a flirtation."

"Ha! That would account for it then."

"Hmmph."

"So… your point? And purpose?"

"It's just that I feel that freedom, too, today, and every time I set foot on a ship. I did even as a child on the _Dauntless_. I agreed with you, though I couldn’t tell you that night. Oh, Jack. Was it just one of your stories after all? "

“ ‘Course not. Usually don’t go _emoting_ about such things, however.”

“Well, you did. You really don’t remember? Any of it?”

“I remember you burned the rum.”

“Oh, Jack!”


	14. Fates collide - the turning points and choices that brought Elizabeth to her fall from the parapet and Jack to her rescue in CotBP.

The sun was high before he staggered from her bedchamber, gray around the edges. She purred, "It was good last night, Jack Sparrow."

He was pleased, but winced as he sat down opposite her, and swallowed hard before saying, "Always happy to oblige. Now… the Compass?"

It was her turn to wince. _Aztec Gold_. But the payment had been fair -- more than fair – and a bargain was a bargain. She got up to fetch it from the shelf.

As sometimes happened, shards of the future flashed behind her eyes. _Barbossa's treachery. The Pearl lost. Hungry years. A coin in the hands of a girl. A girl..._

Tia Dalma's eyes widened. She turned back to her unsuspecting guest.

An eager look was replacing the weariness, and he held out his hand.

She shook her head as she approached. "Jack. Darlin' Jack. Jus' remember, not all treasure be silver and gold."


	15. Remembrance of things past - Jack’s acquisition of the beads and baubles that chronicle his history.

** _~ Before the Mirror ~_ **

  
"This one's for that pretty, black-eyed chit in Cartagena – ripe as a peach! I was in excellent form, too, she was dead to the world when I slipped off with her emeralds.

“And this one's for the lass I gave ‘em to, to put her in funds. The Widow Granger. See how it's just a plain little thing? Like she was herself, though she livened up nicely toward the end. Learned a lot in one night; her bloody useless husband _deserved_ to be skewered.

“And see this shark's tooth? Bill pulled the bugger up when we was fishin' off the side of the _Pearl_, during me first year, and it bit me and him both before we killed it. Only a few cuts for him, but I wasn't so lucky -- you've seen the scar. Every one of those stitches felt like a red hot poker goin' in. Bill stayed by me, though - or _on_ me, really, helped hold me down. Did I tell you that butcher of a surgeon favored blue thread? Anyway, Bill tried to keep me distracted, funny stories - and _songs!_ You wouldn't think he could be so amusing to see him now. Though he _has_ lost the starfish, thank God fasting."

Jack gave a last tweak to his now nicely arranged elflocks, then took up his pot of kohl.

Elizabeth, who’d been watching him in the mirror as he primped, said thoughtfully, "Teague's hair is similarly laden with memorabilia -- he told me those silver crosses he wears were your mother's. You’re both surprisingly sentimental!"

Jack's eyes widened in outrage. "It ain't sentiment. It's just another way of remembering. Like a ship's log, or a diary, though a diary's too easy to lose, and what with sun and drink and bein' knocked on the head in the natural course of events, one needs these little souvenirs to remind one of things that are important."

"Important? Like lovers? And friends?"

"Aye."

"Rubbish! Why do you _want_ to remember? It's pure sentiment!"

"Well, it's not. We want to remember so we... so we don't bloody forget!"


	16. Fathers and sons, fathers and daughters - Jack and Teague, Elizabeth and Weatherby.

** _~ Dear Departed ~_ **

Teague was strolling about the common room, showing off Elizabeth's son, Jamie, six months old now and displaying, amid smiles and gurgling laughter, a brand new tooth - his first.

"Application of strong rum was called for, direct on the gums. Jack and Lizzie were at wit's end with the lad's fussing. Had to step in. I'm an old hand at this sort of thing."

Over at a corner table, half in shadow, Jack shook his head sadly. "Yet another incident I'll never live down."

Elizabeth smiled, but said, wistfully, "I don't mind it. I only wish my father had had _his_ chance."

Jack patted her hand, and gave it a light squeeze. "D'you think he would've known about the trick with the rum?"

"Maybe. But it would have been the finest cognac, rather than rum." And she lifted her tankard in a salute to the dear, _very_ dear departed.


	17. Education - Jack/Elizabeth’s acquisition of worldly knowledge.

** _~ Sharp Sauce ~_ **

  
The light of the single candle flickered on the shadowed ceiling. They lay side by side on the rumpled covers, Elizabeth entirely unable to quell her satisfied smirk as Jack's harsh breathing gradually slowed, though the echo of his helpless cries seemed to linger.

His fingers found her hand and tightened on it, convulsively. "Where, by all that's holy, did you learn _that?_"

She turned toward him, raising herself on her elbow, and kissed his cheek. "Did you like it, then?" She could not resist, softly stroked his smooth bronzed chest, then lower, until he captured her wandering hand with a gasp.

"Wicked chit, _no!_ Give a man a chance, will you?"

"Poor darling."

"I'll _poor darling_ you,” he said, that velvet growl in his voice. “Where _did_ you learn it?"

"Made it up!" He raised a skeptical brow, so she added, "I may have been inspired by a certain conversation that took place at the Green Goose the other day."

"_Molly?_"

"And several other women, including Mistress Ching and two of her ladies in waiting. They were very… _knowledgeable_."

"Ah. They would be. Very advanced, the Chinese. They know things about the human body, about pleasure and pain, that most Westerners never even imagine. I've learned a few things from them myself over the years."

"Singapore?"

"And elsewhere." He turned onto his side to face her. "Shall I show you?"

She swallowed hard at the look he was giving her. "In... in the interest of scientific enquiry?"

"Mostly." He ran a finger lightly down her arm. "Revenge is such a negative word."

"Revenge! Jack--"

"More like tit for tat. Sauce for the gander…“

“…Is required for the goose?"

“Not just required. Essential. Even vital.”

She shivered.

A smile touched his lips. "No worries, love. You won't scream. Much."


	18. Ink - The stories behind Jack's tattoos.

** _~ Truth in Ink ~_ **

  
Somehow, in the course of subsequent events, the wicked became Profound.

This thought formed unbidden in Jack's head. Unwanted, even. But undeniable, too, and it brought an unwonted silence. For a long time after they'd made an end, they lay twined together, just breathing, a haven of strangely blessed warmth in the cool moonlight.

He thought she was asleep when he finally lifted his hand to stroke her hair.

But, gentle as he was, she stirred, shifted slightly and caught the hand, and brought his wrist, adorned with brand and ink, to her lips. Thanks and benediction.

It was she who spoke first, studying said wrist in the faint silver light. "Why Sparrow?" She shifted her gaze, and there was that ubiquitous insistence on truth, mingled now with affection—even love, maybe.

Jack said, "It's a family name. I was born and bred John Teague, of course. Didn't change it 'til I lost the _Wicked Wench_ and found… the Pirate."

"Beckett." The name was like a curse on her lips, and there was real grief on her face now, for the young man she imagined he'd been.

He smiled, wryly. "It was there all along. The stripes and the brand only confirmed it. Wasn't enjoyable – though Beckett might beg to differ – but maybe it was… necessary."

Her fingers curled around his wrist; her thumb brushed against the half-numbed scar of the brand, comfort vague as a dream. “But about the sparrow?" she asked, again.

He sighed at the past, and his apparent compulsion to tell her some of it, at least. "Teague and I had a falling out when I came back with the _Pearl_\-- the _Wench_ raised from the depths by Jones. Teague had wanted me safe, see, on dry land, and out of the sweet trade. Seems laughable now, don't it? I was twelve when he sent me to 'prentice with his sister's husband in Portsmouth, a cartographer, and as close to bein' a gentleman as made no odds. Learned a lot, but the sea was calling. And it's bloody cold in England, as you may remember. So all Teague's plans came to nothing, and we had a bit of a row over it when I came back so _destroyed_, as he named it. In the end, I told him he was a coward for holing up at the Cove, that I refused his name, and that mother'd be ashamed of him if she were still alive—tried to shoot me for that, hit too close to home, maybe. I took my cue, made a dignified yet timely exit and sailed off east. Some friends in the spice islands set this into my skin – my own design."

"A sparrow over water, before the rising sun."

"Precisely!" So many fools took it for a setting sun, but not Lizzie, by God. Not his Lizzie.

"But Jack, why Sparrow?" She was persistent. She was like him in that, too. "You said it's a family name?"

"Aye. My mother's name, Isabel Moineau – that's Sparrow, in English."

Elizabeth's lips curved in pleased comprehension, and she looked so beautiful that Jack's mind flooded with the many, varied expressions that face had worn during the course of this night – wanton deviltry, naked desire; an ecstasy so exquisite that the memory of it made him stir anew, sated as he was.

He bent and kissed her, and whispered against those lips, "She would have liked you, love, upon my soul."


	19. Thirteen years - Jack’s quest to regain the Pearl.

** _~ Thirteen Years ~_ **

  
_Thirteen years._

Should've known, just from the number. Jones had a sick sense of humor. Bad luck, as Gibbs would say.

_Thirteen years._

He missed Gibbs. Joshamee was a good first mate, good at sea, less good on land, what with the drink and all. But he told the stories fine and clear, so ol' Jack didn't have to.

_Thirteen years._

Plus a bit more, for dying; fighting; then living again, with all that living meant. Heartache. Striving. Failing. Longing.

Jack took another healthy swig of rum and refused to look at his compass. Which wasn't working. Or was working. Or something.

The breeze had died, and the sea had an oily look.

_Thirteen years._

Lizzie would've been seven. Still in England. Climbing trees, or playing pirate with the stable lads when she'd slipped her leash, which doubtless she had whenever possible. Seven, when Jack had been busy squaring with his pirate blood, defying Cutler Beckett, suffering the consequences. Making his deal with the devil.

He felt old. And the rum wasn't helping.

He threw the bottle (there were a couple left, anyway) and it went end over end and plopped into the water where it bobbed a minute before sinking. Then he checked the compass.

_Same story, different version. And all of them are true._

Jack sighed. Felt a puff, then stronger: a change in the wind. A change that colluded with Tia Dalma's infernal contraption.

He was tired. Tired of feeling old. Hungry. Alone. Tired of missing the _Black Pearl_. His _Pearl._

_Thirteen years_.

It was long enough. It was time to get her back. Both of them.

She was Pirate King through his kind offices. Helping him retrieve his ship was the least she could do. And so he would tell her.

Eyes narrowed, he brought the dinghy about, settled, and for the first time in several days found himself humming.

  
~.~


End file.
